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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528289">pet names</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental'>limerental</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Unconventional Families</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:21:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Idiot,” says Yennefer, turning down the heat on the burner and shoving her way in to rescue the onions that Jaskier has been intent on crisping rather than caramelizing. He’s about to run off and leave her to sort out his crimes alone when she grabs him by the sleeve and tugs him close to watch. “Try not to burn the fucking kitchen down next time.”</p><p>Ficletvember Day 9 - prompt: pet names</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pet names</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Idiot,” says Yennefer, turning down the heat on the burner and shoving her way in to rescue the onions that Jaskier has been intent on crisping rather than caramelizing. He’s about to run off and leave her to sort out his crimes alone when she grabs him by the sleeve and tugs him close to watch. “Try not to burn the fucking kitchen down next time.”</p><p>“Moron,” she says, flicking Geralt neatly in the center of the forehead. He pouts over the sting and presses his face into her chest. The sun is well up, and he’s let her sleep in. “I’m late,” she groans but threads her fingers into his hair, feels the puff of his breath against her breast.</p><p>“You complete dunce!” Yennefer calls across the darkened street, Jaskier stumblingly drunkenly and laughing off the blaring horn of the car that has nearly decked him. She finds her legs equally wobbly as she goes to hurry after him, catching herself on Geralt’s arm. “Carry me, meathead,” she says and yelps as he obeys and hoists her up.</p><p>“Ugh, you clowns!” she yells as Jaskier nimbly ducks away from her half-hearted smacks, the candle light flickering around them, Geralt standing to pull back her seat at a table set for three.</p><p>“Imbecile,” she says against Geralt’s lips, curled fingers stretching out the front of his shirt. She switches to Jaskier, tugging him close, pressing a kiss against the curve of his jaw. “Idiots, both of you.”</p><p>“You fool,” says Yennefer, touching the line of Geralt’s singed eyebrows. He still smells like smoke from the fire. “You don’t ever do that again. You let someone else’s partner burn off their beautiful lashes and nearly die to rescue somebody’s pet rat. A rat! I should strangle you, you foolish man.”</p><p>“Ugly one,” she says with fondness, rocking the new baby in her arms, their daughter’s wrinkled face already testing the limits of discontent. It has been a long time coming, this moment. Her idiots loom on either side, Geralt’s chin tucked against her neck, Jaskier’s hand pressed into the small of her back. “Pretty little ugly one,” she whispers against the fresh-smelling crown of the babe’s head.</p>
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